


Impact of an Impact

by LizLuvsCupcakes



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Drugs mention, Gen, Logan wanted to be a dentist, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic LAMP - Freeform, Self Loathing, TW dental stuff, implied gore, platonic royality - Freeform, sedative mention, tw gore, tw wisdom teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizLuvsCupcakes/pseuds/LizLuvsCupcakes
Summary: Did somebody order Roman getting his wisdom teeth pulled? No? Well I don’t care I’m doing it anyway!
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders & Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	Impact of an Impact

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: if you’re a bit squeamish or sensitive to negative self talk, this may not be the story for you. Happy to recommend a story if you need help, but no triggering yourself on purpose baby!

Roman Sanders was very proud to say that he had perfect teeth, thank you very much. And that wasn’t even just him talking; Logan had told him on more than one occasion that he could’ve modeled for an oral textbook. Not exactly the acting profession he’d wanted but,what are you gonna do?

Besides, the acting profession didn’t give him that smug sense of better-ness that being the only side to never have a single cavity gave him. 

But what if it wasn’t? Hissed that nagging voice in his head. What if this was the year logan had to fill one? What if he found one and looked Roman dead in the eye the whole time he filled it?

Roman quickly banished those thoughts as he spit a mouthful of foamy toothpaste into his sink. It was not going to happen. His teeth were perfect. ~~The only perfect thing about him.~~ He was going to go in there, indulge Logan and his need for validation in his knowledge of science and biology, and then he’d come out and enjoy his own warm glow of validation. 

So, with a smile and another quick scrub with the brush (this was the one time Logan liked him or anything about his appearance, he didn’t wanna blow it), he rinsed and felt ready. The prince tossed his brush aside and strode out of his room and over to Logan’s, where he knocked politely yet loudly. “Logan? Do you have an open appointment?”

The door opened, and there was Logan in the navy blue scrubs Roman had given him, looking completely unimpressed at the prince’s attempt at humour. “Considering you are the only person I have scheduled to this allotted time slot, that feels like a superfluous question.”

Roman rolled his eyes, not bothering to explain the joke (he'd half understood it himself) and just walked in. “You’ve changed the place up again.”

“Thomas has a new dentist, and I liked this chair better. Please have a seat, Roman.”

“The less idle small talk made the better, hm?”

“Yes. You know I dislike idle small talk.”

Roman rolled his eyes, trying not to take that too personally, and they fell into the routine they knew so well. Now, he’d been in Logan’s facsimile of an office more times than he could count, and he was all the way up to 892 by now, so he more than knew the drill (haha). But still, there was always this… knot that formed between his lungs and his stomach and somehow between his heart every time they started this strange routine they’d settled into. He did this with everyone, except with himself where Remy took care of things. So why did Roman still feel so uncomfortably like something Logan had plated up for dinner? Why did Logan give off such a terrifyingly inhuman vibe decked out in his mask, gloves and his weird glasses lights, like an alien peering down at him to dissect him?

Regardless. They began it again. Roman stretching his jaw when asked and Logan prodding and poking his teeth, muttering the same odd letters and numbers to himself as always. He had no idea how 1 millimeter related to his gums, or how his teeth ranked between a 1 and a 2 (he didn’t _think_ Logan was that deep and he’d have called all his teeth perfect 10’s) but it all seemed good, so what did he care?

There seemed to be extra numbers this time, however, and this was clearly something Logan noticed. Four extra (18, 28, 38 and 48, he listened as Logan called them out, he didn’t want to be ~~more~~ stupid). They all received their own scores, which shouldn’t have bothered Roman, considering he didn’t know what they meant, but considering that Mrs. Troublemaker 28 insisted on being the only 3 in his assortment of white knights, it was… disconcerting, to know he hadn’t been taking good enough care of his quartet of poorly placed pals. 

_It’s not their fault,_ hissed the voice in his head. _You didn’t brush them properly. Didn’t even try. You saw them coming in and didn’t even try to keep them clean. Some commander you are. Some prince._

Roman pushed those thoughts aside and resolved to be better at brushing his teeth. Clearly he wasn’t as good as he thought he was, if he could barely handle four new soldiers joining his ranks unannounced. 

“Alright, Roman,” Logan said eventually, straightening up. “We’re going to give you a quick rinse before I do your X-Rays. And then we have to talk. Alright?”

“Uuuhhh.”

Of course. Logan would want to know why his perfect patient was failing in this most simple of hygiene standard. Why were four teeth enough to throw a wrench into a system that had worked for years? _Four fucking teeth?_

You could’ve heard a pin drop as Logan rinsed the sticky, chalky foam from Roman’s teeth and guided him to spit in a nearby sink. Roman even tolerated the x rays without incident or complaint. As if that would make up for his sheer and utter failure. _Oh my precious ones, my sweet babies, my little loves I’m so sorry please forgive me_

_please don’t leave-_

“Alright. That should be the end of it.”

Logan took the weird cardboard thing back and acquired the X-Rays in much the same way he’d acquire a chart or a spreadsheet. But unlike those things he produced for Thomas, he settled these on what looked to be a glowing white board that made the shadows of his bones glow. 

“Alright. You remember what I said about our existence?”

“How I’m basically stuck as a copy of 19 year old Thomas’s idealized version of himself and now that other people know about us we’re stuck in the minds of other people and as long as we exist as concepts we can’t really stop existing?” He hoped Logan appreciated that recital, because it had taken him 91 mirror practice sessions to get it _just_ right. 

“Very good. Glad you were listening. Therefore you remember what I said about you not developing past this point?”

He nodded; it had made sense. It also was comforting because it meant he’d have Virgil potentially as his little buddy forever. Which was fun. Not as much fun as teaching him to drive would've been but still.

“Apparently I was wrong about that. Because as you can see here, all four of your wisdom teeth have come in. Roman, is there a reason you did not inform me of this?”

Roman blinked, confused. “Well, you were busy with Thomas and all, and anyway, I thought it was normal to grow teeth.” Everyone always talked about wisdom teeth coming in, all over the Internet he'd seen jokes about it. His personal favourite was the one where your skull was like “hello I know you’re done growing but would you like some more teeth?”

And yes, Logan had been very busy with Thomas and all his typical duties that being logic entailed but well… there was a very common joke people made involving wisdom teeth. 

“Why?” He asked when Logan looked unsatisfied. “Is something wrong?”

Logan sighed. “Nothing we cannot remedy, Roman.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipped through it for a few seconds and then held up an image to Roman of teeth. “This is the third molar; what is commonly known as a wisdom tooth. What I am showing you now is how they would ideally be placed, standing fully erect, not interfering with any of the other teeth. If this were usually the case with most eruptions we wouldn’t be discussing this at all. Most likely we’d simply leave them alone.”

“Okay, so, why are you talking about this?”

“Because your teeth are not coming in ideally. Now-” he held up a hand, stopping Roman before he could interject, “-this is not your fault, there is likely nothing you could’ve done to aid them. But regardless, over here-” he put down his phone and gestured to the messiah white board. “-is your chart.”

It didn’t look straight and perfect. Well, all the other teeth in, but the bottom two- 38 and 48- were both coming in… wrong. 38 looked half stuck in his gum and his cheek, and half coming out straight like Logan said, and the other one was clearly overshooting his mark, coming up straight yes, but way too close to the molar. 

And the upper two? _Forget it._

16 was angled toward the other tooth, like it was trying to squeeze it up and out of his jaw, and Topsy Turvy 28 was just… sideways. It wasn’t even surfaced. Cautiously, as if what he was seeing couldn’t possibly be inside his mouth, Roman probed around with his tongue. It felt just as awful as it looked. And he couldn’t even feel the gnarled roots like tree branches within his gums. 

“... oh,” he said softly. 

“I agree. It appears your teeth have all managed to become impacted in different ways. And don't get me started on the formation of the roots, just… ugh, what _happened_ here?”

Roman sat silently, because he didn’t know, he didn’t have an answer for Logan, he had no clue how this had happened. He should’ve been paying better attention. He should’ve tried harder. But his self shaming was cut short when Logan’s next words chilled him to the bone. 

“This is going to make the extraction process so much more arduous,” he sighed out loud to himself. 

It certainly wasn’t to Roman. And he redirected the attention to himself by quietly asking, “Uh… what extraction process?”

Logan looked at him, surprised. “The extraction process. The process of extraction. The process through which extraction will take place-“

“Yes, I got that far. I want to know why it applies to me,” it took everything he had not to become irate with Logan. He wasn’t going to get him yanking teeth ~~before he had to~~ if he didn’t have to. He wasn't going to have to. He was going to get out of this. 

“Roman. Look at them.”

“Yeah, I _see_ them, but they've been like that for weeks, can't you just leave them alone? I mean it's not like they hurt or anything.”

Logan tensed up slightly more when Roman mentioned that (oh god shut up Princey you're only making things worse), but dutifully answered. “Roman, I assure you the surgery itself is not only safe and relatively painless, it is in this case completely necessary. As you can see, the teeth aren't even fully erupted yet and they're already causing spacing issues and crowding to the preexisting teeth. This can cause a litany of problems down the metaphorical line that can be avoided much easier if we operate quickly.”

For reasons Roman couldn't identify, the words “surgery” and “operate” sent a rush of horror adrenaline down his spine, but onward and upward. “Fine. Do it.” He stretched his jaw wide again and waited. Whatever. It seemed he wasn't going to be remaining perfectly intact, but he could cope. He'd deal with Virgil taunting him in the same way he always had. Presumably with a lot more blood and tears and pain involved. 

However, Logan strode over and patiently closed his mouth. 

“Roman. This is why I said we needed to discuss this. I do not plan to remove your teeth immediately.”

… oh. “I knew that.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Even if you were ready for surgery right now, which you are not, I still need to figure out how I am going to even attempt to remove them. They’re all at incredibly odd angles and getting at them is going to be a challenge in and of itself. Then there's the matter of the roots, they're all nerves and cartilage and malformed bone, I can't just yank them even if I was going to put you under first.”

“You are?”

“That is the standard practice. Just about the only standard practice I’ll be able to use. I doubt I’ll be able to extract with just the typical forceps and accompaniment. Actually…” he hesitated, eyes wandering to the board. “You know, now that I consider… yes…” 

Logan stood up and strode over to the whiteboard messiah, looking thoughtful. “If I were to divide each tooth into sections with the strip saw, ooh, maybe even the circular saw, and then go in with the distal elevator… yes, that would take care of the bottom two, I’ll probably have to cut into the actual gum itself to get at this one here-” he pointed at 28, looking as pleased with his cleverness as Roman was horrified by it. “I can probably get at that one with a bit of excavating. It’ll take me some time to research, but I’m certain it can be done.”

Roman didn't know why he felt like fainting. Logan was talking about things that weren't happening yet, that were in the distant future, that he wasn’t even going to be awake for, and yet he felt like screaming for Logan to stop, please stop _for the sweet love of nutcracker stop talking._ Please, for the love of god, the details were too awful already to process, oh god, Logan, please stop. 

But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He was Logan’s model patient, the one he used as an example for everything else. He had rolled his eyes and half smiled as Virgil screamed the first time logan had tried to do anything like this and even without anyone there to chastise him, he’d felt like the ass he was. 

A part of him was wishing he was Virgil. Being known for having the worst teeth of any side would be better than this. 

Instead of obnoxiously screaming or whining for Logan to stop, he forced his stiff shoulders down and smiled. 

“Okay, so, if we’re not doing this immediately, when are we?”

“Given the estimated last time you consumed food as well as the need to inform Patton of the situation, we can most likely operate tomorrow morning. It should then take you approximately 3 weeks to recover from surgery.”

Surgery. There was that word again. He didn’t know why he’d never thought pulling teeth belonged under… you know, _that word_ before. 

“Ah. Well, that gives me plenty of time to get my ducks in a row.” Enough time to research and try to keep from going insane. 

“Do not prepare any post-op activities that would require anything too strenuous. No arduous physical activity, no stressful emotional work, no heavy psychological investments. Am I clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, no quests, no debates, just stay in bed and watch Disney movies,” he replied in what he hoped was a casual tone, just wanting to get out of that office and back to the safety of his bedroom. 

“Additionally, there will be certain foods you will be unable to eat immediately after the extraction. Give me a moment, I’d like to type you up a list of instructions. Actually,” he added thoughtfully, “I guess I should make one up for Patton, too.”

“Yes,” Roman said far too abruptly. Then, “I mean, it’s probably for the best, I’m going to forget the boring stuff.”

Logan observed him, then proceeded to a laptop where he began typing. “Are you alright?” He asked calmly, tone a bit more gentle than before. 

Roman knew the answer, this one was easy. “Yes.”

Logan considered this but ultimately accepted it. And finally, fifteen agonizing minutes later, he was out with two copies of the same handfuls of sheets. On some, there were names of either medications or babies whose parents were hipsters who didn’t like them, and on the other were instructions he promised himself he’d read just as soon as his heart quit pounding. 

“Roman,” Patton speaking up, for some reason, nearly sent him out of his skin. “Another great report, I presu- oh…” he hesitated as he seemed to truly see Roman, and he suddenly found himself cursing his perpetually perceptive papa. “Oh, kiddo, are you alright?”

“Yes! Fine, just fine! Bright and dandy, like a lack of candy! Oh, I’m supposed to give this to you, Logan wants to operate on my mouth in a few days, bye!” And before Patton could say a single word more, off he went to his bedroom. ~~And there he’d remain until he could calm himself.~~

* * *

_Calm down. Calm down. Gotta calm down. Cmon, calm down. You_ gotta _calm down._ Please _Roman. Calm_ down. _Please,_ Calm _down._

He’d been sitting there on the floor for ages now, thinking this over and over again. A desperate, frantic little mantra he kept repeating, maybe out of some desperate hope that if his mind commanded it enough, his body would just do it. Maybe it would just get the message and stop contracting his lungs so tight and so often, stop pumping his blood so loud he could hear it in his ears as clear as if his heart was in his head, stop running his tongue along teeth that would soon be nothing but empty, bleeding, gushing holes-

Fingers interlaced in thick, wavy hair and gave a harsh tug. No. He was being stupid. He was being ridiculous. He… he needed to… he just needed...

Knowledge. Yes, that was it. Learning about things that scared Charles Dickens out of you was supposed to help you not be quite as E=MCScared, right? And Logan had just given him three whole pages of instructions, plus he had the whole wide internet to search through. 

Wriggling out some of the shakes in his hands that just wouldn’t go away, Roman reached for the papers he’d dropped when he collapsed to the carpet. 

A lot of it was pretty normal looking. The pre-op stud wasn’t even that scary. Wear comfy clothes the day of, don’t eat anything beforehand, no makeup or jewelry (so a stuffed animal was out, he could assume). 

It was when he got to what would happen… later. 

Pain varying person to person? That made sense. Swelling and bruising marring his perfect face? Sure, he’d just hide out in his room until it was gone. Thomas would handle things without him. He always had. 

But… then a passage caught his eye- “There will be a space where the tooth was removed. After 24 hours, this area should be rinsed following meals with warm salt water until it-”

Woah woah woah woah woah- was that to imply he was just going to be left with holes in his face? So, what, Logan just wasn’t even going to sew the gaps shut or whatever? Was that standard practice with _any_ surgery? He was no Logan but he was fairly sure that that was just asking for deformity and infection and god knows what else. 

And besides, chimed in the voice in his head, what if they just… never filled in? What if he was stuck with four awful, horrible holes in his head, always and forever, because he’d proven to Logan that he couldn’t take care of four new soldiers who happened to be a little quirky. What then, Roman? How will you explain that to anyone you kiss in the imagination? To Patton? What will you think when Logan sees the scars of your failures over and over again, potentially for all eternity?

His breath was starting to speed up again so he stopped reading. 

A knock on his door nearly made him scream. “Roman? Honey can I come in?”

Roman stuffed the papers under his pillow, scrubbed the tears away from his eyes (when had he been crying?) and put up his cheeriest face. “Yes, of course padre!”

Patton stepped into the room, looking concerned and a bit sad, but still there, there, _there,_ reassuring and present and _dad._

“You’re getting your wisdom teeth out?” Patton asked quietly. 

“That’s what Logan tells me!”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine! Fantastic. Wonderful! Slightly inconvenienced but aside from that fine! Four fine warriors will soon be struck down, they will be missed, but they will not be forgotten!”

Patton stared at him ~~probably just as annoyed as Logan that he couldn’t keep his teeth inside his head~~ but didn’t refute this. “Okay… but, do you wanna go downstairs with me and talk about what to do when it’s over? 

“Whaddya mean? All I have to do is lie in bed and not move.”

“Well, yeah, but you still need to eat. And I’m not gonna lie to you kiddo, it’s gonna be major mouth surgery, you’re gonna be in some serious pain.”

_I know that!_ Roman felt like screaming. _You think I don’t know that?! Logan was very thorough about that!!_

“And your point is…?”

“Well, I was thinking we should put together a meal regimen you can actually eat from. Y'know, when you can’t chew as much?”

Roman nodded numbly, wondering if vomiting would be an appropriate response as Patton asked him about food he didn’t have to chew and still liked. As he prepared with his papa for a future of frozen yogurt (marred only with pasta, potatoes, sauces and soup) he tried to put the terrifying prospect of a future with massive gashes in his face out of his mind. Yes of course, Thomas couldn’t do that, but Roman did things Thomas couldn’t all the time. He could do this. He could absolutely do this. 

* * *

Roman couldn’t do this. 

Getting through the day had been fine. Logan, bless him, hadn't even noticed anything was wrong, had prattled on about gases and tools and elevators and saws and stuff Roman had almost screamed for him to stop talking about (but he didn't!) as Patton nodded along, glancing between him and Roman. Virgil had slid him the occasional snide comment about how much tension he was holding in his shoulders, sure, and chewing at lunch had been an odd experience with the knowledge that he shortly wouldn’t be able to do it, and all that had been fine. 

It had been when Logan had caught him before he vanished upstairs to arrange about nine piles of Disney movies that the reality of the whole thing struck him.

“Roman, before you go?” He pressed a handful of something hard into the princes palm. It took a second to process that it was a pair of pills, one tiny and round and one oblong capsule, as well as an additional phial full of round ones the size of a dime. 

“Uh… thanks?”

“Swallow that one when you wake up tomorrow,” Logan instructed firmly, pointing to the oblong one. “And dissolve that one under your tongue precisely half an hour before you arrive in my room.”

“Any reason why, kiddo?” Patton asked, washing the baby spoons he'd brokered for Roman's brews. 

“Well the first is an antibiotic that needs time to prepare princey’s immune system. The second is a sedative that needs time to work but cannot be taken with the antibiotic.”

“So, what, I take this and… that's it? I'm out?”

“No, I will provide additional anaesthetic. That one is hardly necessary but Patton seems to think you are nervous.”

“Logan,” Patton chided but Roman was already straightening. 

“Nervous?” He repeated indignantly. “Never!!”

“Roman, honey, it's okay to feel a little scared.”

“Me? Scared? In what universe?” Scoffed the prince. “Imagine that! Scared of a little nap and a bit of boredom, please.”

“Roman, please? Just… take them? For me?” Pled Patton, with his puppy dog papa eyes on full fatherly display. 

Roman considered, then, “is it true there's a chance I could be awake while you dig them out?” He asked Logan.

Logan lit up in that way he always would when you asked him something. “Ah, very good question, Roman. Several studies put the incidence of anesthesia awareness- being conscious during surgery- at about 21,000 of the 21 million people in the U.S. who receive general anaesthesia over the course of a year. And if high risk patients aren't included, to which you are not applicable, that number drops to about 1 in every 40,000 patients per year.”

Roman wanted to throw up. His heart was pounding in his throat. The number was supposed to sound low, the way Logan said it, it was supposed to sound low. Why didn't it sound low? And that second number sounded like it increased if anything ~~but Roman was stupid and couldn't do math right so what did he know?~~ But everyone was staring now, he had to say something.

So he forced his shoulders down, forced that lump in his throats away ( ~~ _it hurt it hurt he couldn't breathe_~~ _no shut up yes he could_ ) and smiled. “Ah! I see. Well, thank you, Microsoft Turd. See you later then, toodles!”

And without waiting for anyone, he sank back to his room and locked the door. He slammed the pills down on his dresser, sank onto his bed and gasped for breath. No. Nononono not now, not _now,_ not when he'd disappointed dad and Logan and made Virgil hate him and-

“Hey Roman?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck why was Virgil here?

“Bud, you doin okay?”

“Yes!” He knew the answer to this question, he'd proven he knew the answer to this question, why did they keep asking it? “I'm a bit busy, do you mind?”

“On one condition.”

“Fine, fine, what?”

“No using The Imagination today, okay?”

There was a pause, then Roman opened the door, and it was very clear to both of them that Virgil was 12 and Roman was 19. And Virgil felt that moment with everything he was meant to feel it with. 

“Excuse me?” Roman said calmly.

Keeping his cool better than even he was expecting to, Virgil reached up and put a hand on Roman's arm. “I'm just saying, if you go there, you're gonna start thinking about shit that bothers you, and that's not gonna be good for you. You know?”

Roman wanted to deny it, partly just to be contrary, but truthfully he did know; he knew exactly what he could be signing himself up for if he allowed himself to dwell in make believe while he was wound tighter than a two dollar watch. He’d once spent two hours there after an audition went poorly, in which the audience pelted him with bricks, bottles, books, explosives, and just about everything else. 

Yeah, maybe Virgil had a point. 

“Well, what makes you think I wasn’t gonna go for one last romp before I’m chained in bed for a month?”

“I know for a fact you’ve been researching.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“You just talked about anesthetic not working, and that’s not a thing you knew it could do.”

Yikes, Virgil _did_ have a point. 

“Very well. Anything for my favourite little emo nightmare.” He tousled Virgil’s hair, which he hated but allowed, and his little purple prince gave him a hug before scurrying back to his own tragic kingdom. 

So Roman didn’t disappear through the red ornate door to the imaginary kingdom. Instead he remained in his grand bedroom and threw himself down on his lion-covered four poster bed, trying to think of anything but his teeth. But when he didn't think of that, he felt his heart beat so fast in his chest he thought it would break a rib, and he kept feeling so fluttery and uncomfortable he thought he might float off into oblivion. 

He scrolled through his phone, looking for _that particular_ fanfiction that he hadn’t read yet. Nothing struck him. Music didn’t do the trick either, as even the dulcet tones of Disney didn’t distract him on this dismal day. He organized and reorganized and re-reorganized his entire room, and just ended up snapping it back to how it had been. He washed and changed the sheets and blankets on his bed three times. He paced the length of his room, had nine showers, washed his hair eight times and conjured 18 pairs of pyjamas, finding only the stimmiest, silkiest pair at the very end. But no matter what he did, he could not get himself to focus on anything for more than a few minutes. 

Finally he just flopped back on his bed and stared at the canopy overhead. When that got tiresome, he picked up his phone and clicked into YouTube again. Taking in a deep breath, he typed _wisdom teeth_ into the search bar. Ignoring the results (and implications of results) such as _wisdom teeth removal funny, wisdom teeth aftermath_ and _wisdom teeth recovery,_ Roman decided to finally nut up and tapped on _wisdom teeth removal._

They were awful even without watching. The thumbnails with vloggers promised extreme pain, the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life, swelling so grotesque you’re unrecognizable, crying for some reason. 

The medical ones were no better. Blood, buckets of blood, teeth with bits of flesh still stuck to them, teeth being actively torn out of some poor people’s mouths...

As for the actual videos? Well… he clicked on one. And he made it 13 seconds in before closing out and having to fight against the awful crushing tight feeling in his chest. 

Somehow he slept. His dreams were full of blood in his mouth, of Logan laughing at him, of Logan calling in others to laugh at him, of not being able to move because the anesthesia had paralyzed his body, but it didn’t numb him and put him out like it was supposed to. He couldn’t scream as Logan ripped out every single one of his teeth, every last one, because Roman could just regrow them, they were imaginary, couldn’t beg for help or call out for his dad. And sometimes his teeth screamed too, screamed for Roman to help them, screamed for him to just do something to save them as Logan sawed them into pieces, sometimes manually, sometimes with a saw designed to cut into bones. The vibrations made the screaming louder. 

He woke in tears at least twice, hugging his lions for all they were worth. 

No, he couldn't do this. But he _had_ to do this. He was Logan's favourite in this one and only regard, if he couldn't do this for him, what would Logan think of him? What would any of them think of him?

Sleep didn't come that night. 

* * *

_Knock knock knock_

“Good morning, Roman,” called Patton softly. “Time to get up, kiddo.”

Roman sat up with a groan, rubbing at his crusty, sore eyes. The sun was barely up, not that you could tell, seeing as it was raining with all its worth. Damn his involuntary control over the weather. 

Patton stuck his head in, smiling kindly at him and entering slowly, as if he was afraid if he moved too quickly, he'd spook the side on the bed. “Sleep well?”

Roman stood, stretching his arms out and popping his back. “Eh, kinda. But I guess I'm about to sleep either way, aren't I?” _Ideally, anyway._

Patton pity-laughed dutifully, reaching up and petting Roman's hair the way he did when Roman had a nightmare. “Mm, soft. Did you wash it?”

“Mmhm.” _Only about 18 times. Or was it 17? I can't remember._ “I figured I'd want to just sleep off whatever happens in Logan’s little shop of horrors today.”

“Do you want me to sit with you honey?”

“What?”

“In Logan’s room. Just until you fall asleep. Do you want me to sit with you a bit?”

Roman did. He truly, honestly did. But what if he said something? What if he babbled something stupid or embarsssing while Logan was drugging him and Patton was there to see it? What if he talked about his fears of being abandoned or forgotten or not needed or anything else? Logan wouldn't care but Patton would be all over him, insisting he talk about it. 

“Actually, I need you to hold down my kingdom until I get back. Please?” He hoped he didn't sound too desperate. 

If he did, Patton didn't seem to mind. “Absolutely sweetheart. We can read Alice if you want.”

He nodded. “Sounds perfect, padre. Gimme a second.”

Gathering himself as best he could, he shuffled to his vanity and picked up the oblong pill from the handful he'd dumped there the previous night, grimacing slightly. 

“I know, baby, it's hardly fair, is it?” Patton sighed, and Roman hardly cared that sarcasm laced his tone (he was pretty sure anyway, he couldn't tell). Roman hated pills, especially ones you had to dissolve. Swallowed ones were fine, you just had to get them over with, but the one that was I guess supposed to relax him was going to be gritty and disgusting against his teeth. 

Teeth that would be missing, shortly. Just four allegedly, but losing four soldiers is four too many under any general. _I'm so sorry, my beauties, it's been an honour to serve with you_.

_Then why do you send them to your deaths? Four perfectly good soldiers that didn't do anything wrong? And you're willing to let Logan destroy them?_

No, of course he wasn't _willing_ to let this happen. But it seemed it was going to. And besides it… it wasn't going to be that bad, right? He'd be asleep, right?

Right?

He managed to get the pill down and sat with Patton for a while, allowing him to run a brush through his hair. For some reason, the bristles running through his hair along with the sound of Patton humming gave him a grounding that quieted the fluttering feeling that had engulfed him. He barely even noticed when Patton handed him the sedative to take. 

“I've never taken drugs before,” he commented once the pill was mostly grit in his mouth.

“Ooh, let me know what it's like,” Patton returned with a conspiratorial smile. 

It was… not what he expected. He didn’t suddenly lose his every inhibition. Rather, he remembered exactly why he was terrified, but now, a nap suddenly seemed much more important. Even as Patton pulled him to his feet and they shuffled down the hall, he could feel the panic but it was… muffled, if that makes sense. 

Logan’s room was darkened except for a few lights over his chair, bright as spotlights over the stage of blood and gore that was about to take place (fuck, that didn’t make sense, his metaphors were all screwed up). “Patton, Roman, excellent. Are you ready?”

“Yeah I guess,” Roman mumbled, words failing. 

“Logan, any way I can sit with him til he’s out?”

“No, that’s not a good idea. It’ll be more jarring for him when you aren’t in the room upon waking.”

Roman felt his insides twist up. He didn’t see how Patton took this revelation but the resignation as he said, “I understand,” told him all he needed to know. Roman felt himself inclined down into the chair, Patton squeezing one hand gently as he pulled away. “I’ll be right back when you wake up, okay? Logan’s gonna take good care of you.”

_Logan’s going to rip my mouth apart._ He didn’t say it, or didn’t think he said it. He was sure he nodded though. And Patton (looking pointedly at Logan, who looked confused) left the room so he wouldn’t have a front row seat to the bloodbath. 

There was quiet for a moment. Quiet during which Roman could finally properly panic. But quietly, don’t you dare say this out loud princey. He pinched himself hard on the back of his hand for good measure. Logan wouldn’t notice. 

“Could I have your hand please, Roman?” 

Okay, so maybe he would. But it didn’t matter, Roman assured himself as Logan attached something hard and tight to his finger, causing something to start beeping in the room, because Logan was just there to steal his teeth like some berserk version of the tooth fairy and he wouldn’t notice much else. Maybe if he was lucky he’d get out of here with half his mouth intact. 

“What?”

Maybe Logan would only decide to rip out half his teeth (“Roman, it’s only four-”) and then Roman would bleed all over and Patton would decide he was too gross to be around and go hang out with Virgil. Or maybe someone else. Or… or, no, no more conjecture, being scared made that too hard. 

“What are you afraid of specifically?” Asked the voice in his head. It had to be that, it couldn’t be Logan, Logan wouldn’t sound that taken aback and concerned. 

Everything. He’d ruined himself. He’d done something wrong, he _had_ to have done something wrong or they all wouldn’t be that terrible, at least one of his poor, unfortunate teeth would’ve survived if he’d done everything right.

“You have no control over-”

-And he said it would only be four but that was a lie, or maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was like when Patton told him maybe instead of no, because they all had to be that terrible. They had to be or else Logan wouldn’t be pulling four whole teeth, four teeth who hadn’t done a thing wrong except have the misfortune to be in Roman’s gross mouth-

“Your mouth is objectively not gross.”

Nonono, falsehood.

“Truth.”

Falsehood, falsehood, falsehood, Roman had failed them, he’d failed Logan, he’d failed his soldiers, and now we must pay-

“Roman?” Logan’s voice was sharp and concerned but also kind. And also right next to him. “What can I do to make you feel calmer?”

Roman didn’t think he was answering. But within a second he was cradling Leia, his favourite (portable) lion in his arms, and feeling marginally calmer as he stroked her soft fur. Something soft and warm was engulfing his hand, and it occurred to him Logan was holding it. 

“Roman,” he said calmly, “if you didn’t have to do this, I wouldn’t make you. Surgery is physically and emotionally stressful, and if there was any other option, I wouldn’t be putting this kind of emotional strain on you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice it, it seems I’ve utterly failed in the area of patient care.”

“You… you never fail at anything, Logie…” he was sure he said that. It was true. 

Logan paused. “I assure you, I do. I clearly failed at not upsetting you. And I clearly failed catastrophically in explaining things to you.”

He was quiet. He liked that about Logan, he always picked his words so carefully, Logan was so careful and smart-

“Clearly I’m not, I figuratively crushed all of your trust in me. I have no right to ask for any more, but I need you to give me a bit of it to explain three fundamental things to you. May I?”

Roman whimpered, but he nodded. 

“Firstly. The monitor I just hooked you up to? It’s keeping track of your heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, all of that, and it gives me auditory alerts if I am too visually focused on you to be paying attention to it. But I _will_ be paying attention to it, and it _will_ tell me if you are not _completely_ knocked out.”

Oh. So the beeping actually did something? He’d always thought… actually he didn’t know what he’d thought. He’d thought Surgeon Simulator had a cool track, he knew that. 

“You’re not making sense, but that’s to be expected. That in mind, I’ll move on to my second point. Those four teeth are not sentient, you will feel some mild discomfort for a few weeks following their removal, but I assure you their presence is doing far more harm than good and I promise you, once you’ve healed up you’ll agree.”

But what if he didn’t? What if Logan decided his other teeth were just as bad, what if something else was wrong?

“That brings me to my third point. You have been catastrophizing about your teeth, haven’t you Roman? But there’s no reason for that. I’m not going to devastate my favourite mouth in the Mindscape. Why would I do that? You’re my star patient. My model of oral perfection. I am going to be treating the surrounding teeth with the utmost care, Roman, because it would devastate me to destroy them. And… and I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt you unnecessarily.”

Roman couldn’t respond. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t anything. He just whimpered and whined. Oh no, not unnecessarily-

“Roman. Listen. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not going to get hurt. You might _feel_ hurt but I promise the pain will be temporary, and can be easily managed. And I’m not going to do anything bad to your teeth, or anything scary while you’re asleep. You are _safe._ ”

Safe. Safe? Logan sounded safe. His voice sounded soft and warm and safe and comfortable. Like a pillow. Did pillows have sound?

“Not really. But listen. I’m going to put this on your face now, it might make you feel a bit, ah, ‘giggly’ is the colloquial term. Just take deep breaths, and give me a moment to get you the general anesthetic.”

Roman nodded, Leia in his free arm as Logan secured something over his nose. He thought he might’ve started laughing. Or maybe he imagined that. He definitely didn’t imagine the soft pinch in the back of his hand, or Logan’s steady, calming voice saying, “you’ll wake up when it’s over.” Then he remembered wondering if he should open his mouth or not.

* * *

  
Roman woke up shockingly lucid, like he’d just dozed off in the car on a long trip. Except rather than a face full of window glass, bathed in sunset glow, he was still in the dark, in the chair, holding Leia. Logan was shuffling around somewhere he couldn’t see and immediately Roman tried to make a noise. For some reason it didn’t work. He sat up, felt for the edge of the chair and stood up…

… Only to promptly collide with something unsteady and metallic that gave way when he reached to brace himself, one knee buckling. Logan immediately bustled over, scooped him up and settled him back into the chair. 

“Lie still a moment,” he ordered calmly. This time Roman was able to mutter in response, even if it was just noise. “It’s over now, you’re done. You did fine. Everything is fine.”

Roman nodded and attempted to grunt in agreement, but found himself too exhausted to do so. 

The door opened and voices spoke in hushed, indecipherable tones. One of them said something about “clearly not fully awake” and Ronan felt annoyed. He _was_ fully awake, couldn't they see that?

“Roman?” Called Patton’s voice. “Kiddo can you open your eyes for me?”

Oh, that would explain it. Roman obeyed, peeling his eyelids open like centuries old wallpaper off of drywall, wondering why he hadn’t started with that. He blinked slowly, not fully sure if Patton’s smiling face was real.

“There he is. How you feeling, kiddo?”

“Mmf.”

“I know, I bet pretty bad. Good news is, you’re all done.”

“Will you need assistance with transit, Patton?” Asked Logan’s voice. 

“Yeah, if you could open the doors for me and Roman, that’d be somethin’ swell, doc.” Patton scooped Roman up in his arms, something he had perfected over the years, and Roman let his eyes slip closed again. His mouth still didn’t feel like anything. 

Roman was tucked in among his stuffed lions and his dad, who, as promised, began reading Through The Looking Glass, allowing Roman to mush into him like he just had a bad bout of stomach flu, as he drifted back into his own dreamland. 

~~~

Roman woke up 5 hours later to the worst headache of his life. 

His mouth was still, blessedly, a bit numb. Or maybe this didn’t hurt as bad as it was supposed to. Whatever the case, he was now distinctly a aware of the wet cotton pads in between the empty spaces in his jaw. 

He rolled over to spit them out, and was disgusted when they were mostly dark by this point. 

“The trash has been provided for purposes of expectorating. You may if you wish.”

“Logan?” The voice on the side of his bed startled him out of his whining. “You’re here?”

“I am here to provide additional pain management in the event you should need it. Additionally, Patton seemed to think that company other than himself could improve your mood.”

“... oh. Well… that’s cool. It’s working.” He paused. “Hey, did we talk before surgery?”

“What do you remember?”

“A lot. But it feels like a dream.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid?”

“”Didn’t see any reason to.”

“You were experiencing a massive crisis of emotion and faith, I consider that to be a reason.”

“Besides that, you were so… excited. And I didn’t wanna ruin things for you and I just…” he trailed off, unsure of himself. His fingers laced in between each other, and he found himself unable to meet Logan’s undoubtedly disappointed gaze. 

But then he felt a pressure envelop his shoulders. Something pressing into his neck. It took a second to understand and accept the reality that Logan was… hugging him? Logan never hugged him. Logan _hated_ him. 

“I would like to apologize, Roman,” he said softly. “It seems I’ve been abysmally careless and unmindful of you.”

“I… I don’t mind, Logan…” he mumbled, half hoping Logan would let go soon because the longer the hug went on, the closer he came to crying. 

“I do. I assure you it will not happen again.” He wrapped his other arm around Roman, softly fiddling with his bangs. 

Roman nodded and reached up, gripping Logan’s arm as he sniffled, his eyes burning. The sensation was coming back in his lips, only his lips, in patches. 

The door opened and Patton walked in, holding a massive bowl of mashed potatoes balanced on top of a laptop as Virgil stumbled in with a stack of every Disney movie in the house. The prince would’ve even dared to wager it was every Disney movie ever made. The idea immediately dismissed any notion of not crying. 

“Patton! You are going to damage your laptop!” Logan protested. Patton just smiled and set it down, dishing out the potatoes in four bowls, one of which had a baby spoon for some reason. This one was handed to Roman. 

“All fair and square, water under the bridge?” He asked his boys as Virgil took his seat on the floor and Patton settled on the right side of Roman, sandwiching him between logic and morality. 

“Yes, I believe we’ve settled this particular crisis. Have we, Roman?”

Roman didn’t know the answer to this one. But it was still easy.

“I think so.”

Logan smiled. A proper smile the fanders would’ve loved. 

They ate potatoes, frozen yogurt and soup and watched Disney movies the whole rest of the day. Roman fell asleep again about three hours in, and… I’d love to tell you he managed to catch up on the sleep he missed fretting last night. But you’ve seen Roman at his worst. And it’s far better to tell you that this time when he woke, confused and disoriented, pain now hitting him like a shovel to the face, he was in the arms of his dad who assured him everything was okay. And it’s far more important that you know that Logan noticed his pain immediately, and had pain medication ready to go. And Virgil had the good taste to have his eyes glued to his tumblr, half focused on keeping anyone else out of the room. 

And really, isn’t that more important?

More important, even, Roman would wager, than having perfect teeth. 

After all, perfect was exhausting and hard. His bed was soft and warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> SOURCES:
> 
> REFERENCES:
> 
> https://www.123dentist.com/understanding-dental-lingo/
> 
> https://www.physicsforceps.com/wisdom-tooth-extraction
> 
> https://www.baoms.org.uk/patients/procedures/23/removal_of_impacted_wisdom_teeth
> 
> https://www.sedarosoralsurgery.com/blog/types-wisdom-tooth-impactions/
> 
> https://www.riograndeoralsurgery.com/patient-instructions/pre-operative-instructions/
> 
> https://amarillooralsurgery.com/instructions/post-operative-instructions-wisdom-teeth-removal/
> 
> “Where can I get my own Leia?” Right here! 
> 
> https://www.stuffedanimals.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=10911&CartID=1
> 
> Can’t have that one, though. That one belongs to Roman.


End file.
